handwriting of Golownin, stating that he and his companions were all
alive and well at Matsumai. Afterwards one of the Russian sailors was
brought to Kunashir and sent on board the Diana, with the understanding
that he would return to the fort every night. Despite the watchfulness
of the Japanese, he succeeded in bringing a letter from Golownin, which
he had sewed into his jacket. This advised Rikord to be prudent, civil,
and patient, and not to send him any letters or papers which would cause
him to be tormented with questions or translations. In truth, he had
been fairly tortured by the refinements of Japanese curiosity. Finally
an ultimatum was obtained from the Japanese, who refused to deliver up
their prisoners until they received from the authorities at Okhotsk a
formal written statement that they had not ordered the hostile
proceedings at Saghalien. The Diana returned for this, and in October
made her appearance at Hakodate, bearing the letter required and another
from the governor of Irkutsk.
The ship had no sooner entered the harbor than it was surrounded by a
multitude of boats, of all kinds and sizes, filled with the curious of
both sexes, many of whom had never before set eyes on a European vessel.
They were in such numbers that the watch-boats, filled with soldiers,
had great ado to keep them back.
Kachi came on board the next morning, and was given the letter from the
governor of Okhotsk. The other Rikord would not deliver except in
person, and after much delay an interview with the governor was
arranged, at which Rikord was received with much state and ceremony. The
letter of the governor of Irkutsk was now formally delivered, in a box
covered with purple cloth, its reception being followed by an
entertainment composed of tea and sweetmeats.
Meanwhile Golownin and his companions, from the time the Diana set out
for Okhotsk, had been treated rather as guests than as prisoners. They
were now brought to Hakodate and delivered to Rikord, after an
imprisonment of more than two years. With them was sent a paper
reiterating the Japanese policy of isolation, and declaring that any
ships that should thereafter present themselves would be received with
cannon-balls instead of compliments.
In all this business Kachi had worked with tireless energy. At first he
was received with reserve as having come from a foreign country. He was
placed under guard, and for a long time was not permitted to see
Golownin, but by dint of persistence had done much in favor of the
release of the prisoners.
His abduction had thrown his family into the greatest distress, and his
wife had made a pilgrimage through all Japan, as a sort of penitential
offering to the favoring gods. During his absence his business had
prospered, and before the departure of the Diana he presented the crew
with dresses of silk and cotton wadding, the best to his favorites, the
cook being especially remembered. He then begged permission to treat the
crew.
"Sailors are all alike," he said, "whether Russian or Japanese. They are
all fond of a glass; and there is no danger in the harbor of Hakodate."
So that night the crew of the Diana enjoyed a genuine sailors' holiday,
with a plentiful supply of saki and Japanese tobacco.
_THE OPENING OF JAPAN._
On the 8th of July, 1853, the Japanese were treated to a genuine
surprise. Off Cape Idsu, the outer extremity of the Bay of Yedo,
appeared a squadron of war-vessels bound inward under full sail, in bold
disregard of the lines of prohibition which Japan had drawn across the
entrance of all her ports. Rounding the high mountains of the promontory
of Idsu, by noon the fleet reached Cape Sagami, which forms the dividing
line between the outer and inner sections of the Bay of Yedo. Here the
shores rose in abrupt bluffs, furrowed by green dells, while in the
distance could be seen groves and cultivated fields. From the cape a
number of vessels put out to intercept the squadron, but, heedless of
these, it kept on through the narrow part of the bay--from five to eight
miles wide--and entered the inner bay, which expands to a width of more
than fifteen miles. Here the ships dropped anchor within full view of
the town of Uragawa, having broken through the invisible bonds which
Japan had so long drawn around her coasts.
During the period between the release of the Russian captives and the
date of this visit various foreign vessels had appeared on the coast of
Japan, each with some special excuse for its presence, yet each
arbitrarily ordered to leave. One of these, an American trading vessel,
the Morrison, had been driven off with musketry and artillery, although
she had come to return a number of shipwrecked Japanese. Some naval
vessels had entered the Bay of Yedo, but had been met with such vigorous
opposition that they made their visits very short, and as late as 1850
the Japanese notified foreign nations that they proposed to maintain
their rigorous system of exclusion. No dream came to them of the
remarkable change in their policy which a few decades were to bring
forth.
They did not know that they were seeking to maintain an impossible
situation. China had adopted a similar policy, but already the
cannon-balls of foreign powers had produced a change of view. If Japan
had not peaceably yielded, the hard hand of war must soon have broken
down her bars. For in addition to Russia there was now another civilized
power with ports on the Pacific, the United States. And the fleets of
the European powers were making their way in growing numbers to those
waters. In a period when all the earth was being opened to commercial
intercourse, Japan could not hope long to remain a little world in
herself, like a separate planet in space.
It was the settlement of California, and the increase of American
interests on the Pacific, that induced the United States to make a
vigorous effort to open the ports of Japan. Hitherto all nations had
yielded to the resolute policy of the islanders; now it was determined
to send an expedition with instructions not to take no for an answer,
but to insist on the Japanese adopting the policy of civilized nations
in general. It was with this purpose that the fleet in question had
entered the Bay of Yedo. It was under command of Commodore Matthew C.
Perry, who bore a letter from the President of the United States to the
Emperor of Japan, suggesting the desirability of commercial relations
between the two countries, requesting the supply of American vessels
with coal and provisions, and demanding the kind treatment and prompt
return of shipwrecked mariners. This letter, splendidly engrossed, was
enclosed in a golden box of a thousand dollars in value, and was
accompanied by numerous presents. The fleet consisted of the
steam-frigates Susquehanna and Mississippi and the sloops-of-war
Plymouth and Saratoga, being the most imposing armament that had ever
entered a Japanese port. Perry was determined to maintain his dignity as
a representative of the United States, and to demand as a right, instead
of soliciting as a favor, the courtesies due from one civilized nation
to another.
The ships had no sooner dropped anchor in the bay than several guns were
fired from a neighboring point and a number of boats put off from the
shore. In the stern of each were a small flag and several men wearing
two swords, evidently persons in authority. These boats were stopped at
the ships' sides, and their inmates told that no person could be
admitted on board except the principal official of the town, the high
rank of the commodore forbidding him to meet any lesser dignitary. As
one of the visitors represented that he was second in rank in the town,
he was finally received on board the flag-ship, but the commodore
declined to see him, turning him over to Mr. Contee, the flag
lieutenant.
A long interview followed, in which the official was made to understand
that the expedition bore a letter from the President of the United
States to the emperor, a message of such importance that it could be
delivered only to an officer of high rank. He was also told, through the
interpreters, that the squadron would not submit to be placed under
guard, and that all the guard-boats must withdraw. The official
displayed much of the inquisitive curiosity for which the Japanese had
made themselves notable on former occasions, and asked a variety of
unimportant questions which the lieutenant refused to answer, saying
that they were impertinent.
The Japanese officer had brought with him the ordinary notifications,
warning all ships against entering their ports, but these the lieutenant
refused to receive. Returning to the shore, in about an hour the officer
came back, saying that his superior could not receive the letter
addressed to the emperor, and stating that Nagasaki was the proper place
for foreign ships to stop. As for the letter, he doubted if it would be
received and answered. He was at once given to understand that if the
governor of the town did not send for the letter, the ships would
proceed up the bay to Yedo and deliver it themselves. At this he
withdrew in a state of great agitation, asking permission to return in
the morning.
During the night watch-fires blazed at points along the coast, and bells
sounded the hours. The watch-boats remained around the fleet, but kept
at a respectful distance from the perilous intruders. The next morning
the highest official of the town came on board, but did his utmost to
avoid receiving the letter. In the end he offered to send to Yedo for
permission, and was granted three days for this purpose.
While awaiting an answer the ships were not idle. Surveying parties were
sent four miles up the bay, sounding, and finding everywhere a depth of
from thirty to forty fathoms. As they approached the forts armed
soldiers came out, but retired again when the boats drew nearer. The
forts, five in number, were very feeble, their total armament consisting
of fourteen guns, none larger than nine-pounders. Many of the soldiers
were armed with spears. Canvas screens were stretched from tree to tree,
as if with the idea that these would keep back cannon-balls. In truth,
the means of defence were so slight that Yedo lay at the mercy of the
American fleet.
Villages seemed to line the shores in an unbroken series, and numerous
small craft lay in the harbor, while trading vessels came in and out
with little regard to the presence of the foreign ships. Every day there
passed up and down the bay nearly a hundred large junks and a great
number of fishing and other boats.
Yezaimon, the governor of the town, protested earnestly against the
survey of the waters by the ships, saying that it was against the laws
of Japan. He was told that it was commanded by the laws of America, and
the soundings went steadily on. On the second day the surveying party
proceeded some ten miles up the bay, the Mississippi steaming in their
wake. This roused new agitation in the Japanese, government boats
meeting them at every point and making earnest signs to them to return.
But no notice was taken of these gestures, and the survey was continued,
deep soundings and soft bottom being found throughout.
In the evening Yezaimon came on board with a cheerful countenance,
saying that he expected good news from Yedo, though he protested still
against the doings of the boats. One of the officers speaks of him as a
"gentleman, clever, polished, well informed, a fine, large man, about
thirty-four, of most excellent countenance, taking his wine freely, and
a boon companion."
On the 12th word came that the emperor would send a high officer to
receive the letter. No immediate answer would be given, but one would be
forwarded through the Dutch or the Chinese. This offer the commodore
rejected as insulting. But, fearing that he might be detained by useless
delay, he agreed to withdraw for a proper interval, at the end of which
he would return to receive the answer.
On the 14th the reception of the letter took place, the occasion being
made one of much ceremony. The commodore landed with due formality,
through a line of Japanese boats, and with a following of three hundred
and twenty officers and sailors from the fleet. Passing through a large
body of soldiers, behind whom stood a crowd of spectators, the building
prepared for the reception was reached. It was a temporary structure,
the reception-room of which was hung with fine cloth, stamped with the
imperial symbols in white on a violet background. The princes of Idsu
and Iwami awaited as the envoys of the shogun, both of them splendidly
attired in richly embroidered robes of silk.
A large scarlet-lacquered box, on gilded feet, stood ready to receive
the letter, which, after being shown in its rich receptacle, was placed
on the scarlet box, with translations in Dutch and Chinese. A formal
receipt was given, ending with the following words: "Because the place
is not designed to treat of anything from foreigners, so neither can
conference nor entertainment take place. The letter being received, you
will leave here."
"I shall return again, probably in April or May, for an answer," said
the commodore, on receiving the receipt.
"With all the ships?" asked the interpreter.
"Yes, and probably with more," was the reply.
This said, the commodore rose and departed, the commissioners standing,
but not another word being uttered on either side. As if to indicate to
his hosts how little he regarded the curt order to leave, the commodore
proceeded in the Susquehanna up the bay to the point the Mississippi had
reached. Here he dropped anchor, the spot being afterwards known as the
"American anchorage." On the following day he sent the Mississippi ten
miles higher up, a point being reached within eight or ten miles of the
capital. Three or four miles in advance a crowded mass of shipping was
seen, supposed to lie at Sinagawa, the southern suburb of Yedo. On the
16th the vessels moved down the bay, and on the following day they stood
out to sea, no doubt greatly to the relief of the Japanese officials.
In consequence of the death of the shogun, which took place soon after,
Perry did not return for his answer until the following year, casting
anchor again in the Bay of Yedo on February 12, 1854. He had now a
larger fleet, consisting of three steam-frigates, four sloops-of-war,
and two store-ships. Entering the bay, they came to anchor at the point
known as the "American anchorage."
And now a debate arose as to where the ceremonies of reception should
take place. The Japanese wished the commodore to withdraw to a point
down the bay, some twenty miles below Uragawa. He, on the contrary,
insisted on going to Yedo, and sent boats up to within four miles of
that city to sound the channel. Finally the village of Yokohama,
opposite the anchorage of the ships, was fixed upon.
On the 8th of March the first reception took place, great formality
being observed, though this time light refreshments were offered. Two
audiences a week were subsequently held, at one of which, on March 13,
the American presents were delivered. They consisted of cloths,
agricultural implements, fire-arms, and other articles, the most
valuable being a small locomotive, tender, and car, which were set in
motion on a circular track. A mile of telegraph wire was also set up and
operated, this interesting the Japanese more than anything else. They
had the art, however, of concealing their feelings, and took care to
show no wonder at anything displayed.
In the letter of reply from the shogun it was conceded that the demands
in relation to shipwrecked sailors, coal, provisions, water, etc., were
just, and there was shown a willingness to add a new harbor to that of
Nagasaki, but five years' delay in its opening were asked. To this the
commodore would not accede, nor would he consent to be bound by the
restrictions placed on the Dutch and Chinese. He demanded three harbors,
one each in Hondo, Yezo, and the Loochoo Islands, but finally agreed to
accept two, the port of Simoda in Hondo and that of Hakodate in Yezo. An
agreement being at length reached, three copies of the treaty were
exchanged, and this was followed by an entertainment on the fleet to the
Japanese officials, in which they did full justice to American fare, and
seemed to be particularly fond of champagne. One of them became so merry
and familiar under the influence of this beverage that he vigorously
embraced the commodore, who bore the infliction with good-humored
patience.
At the new treaty ports the restrictions which had been thrown around
the Dutch at Nagasaki were removed, citizens of the United States being
free to go where they pleased within a limit of several miles around the
towns.
The success of the Americans in this negotiation stimulated the other
maritime nations, and in the same year a British fleet visited Nagasaki
and obtained commercial concessions. In 1858 the treaties were extended,
the port of Yokohama replacing that of Simoda, and the treaty ports
being opened to American, British, French, and Dutch traders.
Subsequently the same privileges were granted to the other commercial
nations, the country was made free to travellers, and the long-continued
isolation of Japan was completely broken down. A brief experience of the
advantages of commerce and foreign intercourse convinced the
quick-witted islanders of the folly of their ancient isolation, and they
threw open their country without restriction to all the good the world
had to offer and to the fullest inflow of modern ideas.
[Illustration: CHUSENJI ROAD AND DAIYA RIVER.]
_THE MIKADO COMES TO HIS OWN AGAIN._
The visit of Commodore Perry to Japan and the signing of a treaty of
commerce with the United States formed a great turning-point in the
history of that ancient empire. Through its influence the mikado came to
his own again, after being for seven centuries virtually the vassal of
the shogun. So long had he vanished from sight that the people looked
upon him as a far-off spiritual dignitary, and had forgotten that he was
once the supreme lord of the land. During all this time the imperial
court had been kept up, with its prime minister, its officials and
nobles,--with everything except authority. The court dignitaries ranked,
in their own conceit and their ancient titles, far above the shogun and
daimios, the military leaders, but they were like so many actors on the
stage, playing at power. The shogun, with the power at his command,
might have made himself the supreme dignitary, but it was easier to let
the sleepy court at Kioto alone, leaving them the shadow of that power
of which the substance was in the shogun's hands.
Yet there was always a risk in this. The sleeping emperor might at any
time awake, call the people and the army to his aid, and break through
the web that the great spider of military rule had woven about his
court. Some great event might stir Japan to its depths and cause a vital
change in the state of affairs. Such an event came in the visit of the
American fleet and the signing of a treaty of commerce and intercourse
by the Tai Kun, or great sovereign of Japan, as the shogun signed
himself.
For two centuries and a half Japan had been at peace. For nearly that
length of time foreigners had been forbidden to set foot on its soil.
They were looked upon as barbarians, "foreign devils" the islanders
called them, the trouble they had caused long before was not forgotten,
and throughout the island empire they were hated or despised.
The visit of the American fleet was, therefore, sure to send a stir of
deep feeling throughout the land. During this period of excitement the
shogun died, and the power was seized by Ii, the regent, a daring and
able man, who chose as shogun a boy twelve years old, imprisoned,
exiled, or beheaded all who opposed him, and was suspected of an
intention to depose the mikado and set up a boy emperor in his place.
All this aroused new excitement in Japan. But the opposition to these
acts of the regent would not have grown to revolution had no more been
done. The explosion came when Ii signed a treaty with the foreigners, a
right which belonged only to the mikado, and sent word to Kioto that the
exigency of the occasion had forced him to take this action.
The feeling that followed was intense. The country became divided into
two parties, that of the mikado, which opposed the foreigners, and that
of the shogun, which favored them. "Honor the mikado and expel the
barbarians," became the patriot watchword, and in all directions excited
partisans roamed the land, vowing that they would kill the regent and
his new friends and that they were ready to die for the true emperor.
Their fury bore fruit. Ii was assassinated. At the moment when a strong
hand was most needed, that of the regent was removed. And as the feeling
of bitterness against the foreigners grew, the influence of the shogun
declined. The youthful dignitary was obliged by public opinion to visit
Kioto and do homage to the mikado, an ancient ceremony which had not
been performed for two hundred and thirty years, and whose former
existence had almost been forgotten.
This was followed by a still more vital act. Under orders from the
mikado, the shogun appointed the prince of Echizen premier of the
empire. The prince at once took a remarkable step. For over two
centuries the daimios had been forced to reside in Yedo. With a word he
abolished this custom, and like wild birds the feudal lords flew away.
The cage which had held them so long was open, and they winged their way
to their distant nests. This act was fatal to the glory of Yedo and the
power of its sovereign lord. In the words of the native chronicler, "the
prestige of the Tokugawa family, which had endured for three hundred
years, which had been as much more brilliant than Kamakura in the age of
Yoritomo as the moon is more brilliant than the stars, which for more
than two hundred and seventy years had forced the daimios to take their
turn of duty in Yedo, and which had, day and night, eighty thousand
vassals at its command, fell to ruin in the space of a single day."
In truth, the revolution was largely completed by this signal act. Many
of the daimios and their retainers, let loose from their prison,
deserted the cause of their recent lord. Their place of assemblage was
now at Kioto, which became once more populous and bustling. They
strengthened the imperial court with gold and pledged to it their
devotion. Pamphlets were issued, some claiming that the clans owed
allegiance to the shogun, others that the mikado was the true and only
emperor.
The first warlike step in support of the new ideas was taken in 1863, by
the clan of Choshiu, which erected batteries at Shimonoseki, refused to
disarm at the shogun's order, and fired on foreign vessels. This brought
about a bombardment, in the following year, by the ships of four foreign
nations, the most important result of which was to teach the Japanese
the strength of the powers against which they had arrayed themselves.
Meanwhile the men of Choshiu, the declared adherents of the mikado,
urged him to make a journey to Yamato, and thus show to his people that
he was ready to take the field in person against the barbarians. This
suggestion was at first received with favor, but suddenly the Choshiu
envoys and their friends were arrested, the palace was closely guarded,
and all members or retainers of the clan were forbidden to enter the
capital, an order which placed them in the position of outlaws. The
party of the shogun had made the mikado believe that the clan was
plotting to seize his person and through him to control the empire.
This act of violence led to civil war. In August, 1864, the capital was
attacked by a body of thirteen hundred men of the Choshiu and other
disaffected clans. It was defended by the adherents of the shogun, now
the supporters of the mikado. For two days the battle raged, and at the
end of that time a great part of the city was a heap of ashes, some
thirty thousand edifices being destroyed by the flames. "The Blossom
Capital became a scorched desert." The Choshiu were defeated, but Kioto
lay in ruins. A Japanese city is like a house of card-board, easily
destroyed, and almost as easily rebuilt.